Ten Big Ones

Two

I found my mom at the kitchen sink, peeling potatoes. My sister Valerie was in the kitchen, too. Valerie was seated at the small wood table, and she was nursing the baby. It seemed to me Valerie was always nursing the baby. There were times when I looked at the baby and felt the pull of maternal yearnings, but mostly I was glad I had a hamster.

Grandma followed me into the kitchen, anxious to tell everyone the news, 'She blew up her car again,' Grandma announced.

My mother stopped peeling. 'Was anyone hurt?'

'No,' I said. 'Just the car. It was totaled.'

My mother made the sign of the cross and took a white-knuckled grip on the paring knife. 'I hate when you blow up cars!' she said. 'How am I supposed to sleep at night knowing I have a daughter who blows up cars?'

'You could try drinking,' Grandma said. 'That always works for me. Nothing like a good healthy snort before bedtime.'

My cell phone chirped, and everyone paused while I answered.

'Are you having fun yet?' Morelli wanted to know.

'Yeah. I just got to my parents' house and it's lots of fun. Too bad you're missing it.'

'Bad news. You're going to have to miss it, too. One of the guys just brought in a suspect, and you're going to have to ID him.'

'Now?'

'Yeah. Now. Do you need a ride?'

'No. I'll borrow the Buick.'

When my Great Uncle Sandor went into the nursing home, he gave his '53 powder blue-and-white Buick Roadmaster to Grandma Mazur. Since Grandma Mazur doesn't drive (at least not legally), the car mostly sits in my father's garage. It gets five miles to a gallon of gas. It drives like a refrigerator on wheels. And it doesn't fit my self-image. I see myself more as a Lexus SC430. My budget sees me as a secondhand Honda Civic. My bank was willing to stretch to a Ford Escape.

That was Joe,' I told everyone. 'I have to meet him at the police station. They think they might have the guy who set fire to my car.'

'Will you be back for the chicken?' my mother wanted to know.

'And what about dessert?'

'Don't wait dinner. I'll get back if I can, and if not I'll take leftovers.' I turned to Grandma. 'I'm going to have to commandeer the Buick until I can replace the Escape.'

'Help yourself,' Grandma said. 'And I'll ride with you to the police station. I could use to get out of the house. And on the way home we could stop at Stiva's to see if they got the lid up for the evening viewing. I'd hate to miss out on seeing Lorraine.'

Twenty minutes later, Grandma and I cruised into the public parking lot across the street from the cop shop. The Trenton police are housed in a no-nonsense chunk of brick and mortar in a no nonsense part of town that gives the cops easy access to crime. The building is half cop shop and half courthouse. The courthouse half has a guard and a metal detector. The cop half has an elevator decorated with bullet holes.

I looked at Grandmas big black patent leather purse. Grandma was known to, from time to time, carry a.45 long barrel. 'You don't have a gun in there, do you?' I asked.

'Who, me?'

If they catch you taking a concealed weapon into the building they'll lock you up and throw the key away.'

'How would they know I got a concealed weapon if it's concealed? They better not search me. I'm an old lady. I got certain rights.'

'Carrying a concealed weapon isn't one of them.'

Grandma pulled the gun out of her purse and shoved it under her seat. 'I don't know what this country's coming to when an old lady can't keep a gun in her purse. We got a rule for everything these days. What about the bill of health? It says I can bear arms!'

'That's the Bill of Rights, and I don't think it specifically addresses guns in purses.' I locked the Buick and called Joe on my cell. 'I'm across the street,' I told him. 'And I've got Grandma with me.'

'She isn't armed, is she?'

'Not anymore.'

I could feel Joe smile across the phone line. 'I'll meet you downstairs.'

Civilian traffic in the building was minimal at this time of day.

The courts were closed, and police business was shifting from front-door inquiries to back-door arrests. A lone cop sat in a bulletproof cage at the end of the hall, struggling to stay awake on his shift.

Morelli stepped out of the elevator just as Grandma and I swung through the front-entrance doors.

Grandma looked at Morelli and gave a snort. 'He's wearing a gun,' she said.

'He's a cop.'

'Maybe I should be a cop,' Grandma said. 'Do you think I'm too short?'

Thirty minutes later, Grandma and I were back in the Buick.

'That didn't take long,' Grandma said. 'I hardly had a chance to look around.'

'I couldn't make an ID. They picked up a guy who was carrying the backpack, but it wasn't the guy who ran out of the store. He said he found the backpack discarded in an alley.'

'Bummer. This doesn't mean we're going to have to go back to the house, does it? I can't take any more of the galloping and the baby talk.'

'Valerie talks baby talk to the baby?'

'No, she talks it to Kloughn. I don't like to make judgments on people, but after a couple hours of listening to "honey pie smoochie bear cuddle umpkins" I'm ready to smack someone.'

Okay, so I was glad I'd never been there when Valerie called Kloughn cuddle umpkins because I would have wanted to smack someone, too. And my self-restraint isn't as well honed as Grandma's.

'It's too early to go to the viewing,' I said to Grandma. 'I guess I could stop in on Sally Sweet. He turned up Failure To Appear today on an assault charge.'

'No kidding? I remember him. He was a nice young man. Sometimes he was a nice young woman. He had a plaid skirt I always admired.'

I pulled out of the lot, right-turned onto North Clinton, and followed the road for almost a quarter mile. At one time in Trenton's history this was a thriving industrial area. The industry had all vacated or drastically downsized and the rotting carcasses of factories and warehouses produced an ambience similar to what you might find in postwar Bosnia.

I left Clinton and wove my way through a neighborhood of small bleak single-story row houses. Originally designed to contain the factory workers, the row houses were now occupied by hardworking people who lived one step above welfare… plus there were a few oddballs like Sally Sweet.

I found Fenton and parked in front of Sweets house. 'Wait in the car until I find out what's going on,' I said to Grandma.

'Sure,' Grandma said, her hands gripping her purse in excited anticipation, her eyes glued to Sweet's front door. The Buick was a car designed for a man, and Grandma seemed swallowed up by the monster. Her feet barely touched the floor, her face was barely visible over the dash. A timid woman might feel overwhelmed by Big Blue. Grandma was a little shrunken, but she wasn't timid, and there wasn't a whole lot that overwhelmed Grandma. Thirty seconds after Grandma agreed to wait in the car, she was on the sidewalk, following me to Sweets front door.

'I thought you were going to wait in the car?' I said.

'I changed my mind. I thought you might need help.'

'Okay, but let me do the talking. I don't want to alarm him.'

'Sure,' Grandma said.

I knocked on Sweets front door, and the door opened on the third knock. Sally Sweet looked out at me, recognition kicked in, and his face creased into a grin. 'Long time no see,' he said. 'What brings you to my casa?'

'We're here to drag your behind back to jail,' Grandma said.

'Fuck,' Sally said. And he slammed the door shut.

'What was that?' I asked Grandma.

'I don't know. It just popped out.'

I gave another rap on the door, 'Open the door,' I said. 'I just want to talk to you.'

Sally cracked the door and peeked at me. 'I can't go to jail. I'll lose my job.'

'Maybe I can help.'

The door opened wide, Sally stepped to the side to allow us entry, and I gave Grandma a warning glare.

'My mouth is zipped,' she said, making a zipping gesture. 'And look, I'm locking the zipper and throwing away the key. See me throw away the key?'

Sally and I stared at Grandma.

'Mmmmf, mmmf, mmf,' Grandma said.

'So what's new?' I asked Sally.

'I get band gigs on weekends,' he said. 'Weekdays I drive a school bus. It's not like the glory days when I was with the Lovelies, but it's pretty cool.'

'What's with the assault charge?'

'It's bogus, man. I was having a discussion with this dude and all of a sudden he started coming on to me. And I was "Hey, man, that's not where I live," you know. I mean, okay, so I was wearing a dress, but that's my professional persona. Wearing a dress is my thing. It's my trademark now. Sure, I was playing support for a rap group, but people still expect me to be in a pretty dress. I'm Sally Sweet, you know? I got a reputation.'

'I could see where it might be confusing,' Grandma said.

I was trying hard not to look appalled. 'So you hit him?'

'Only once… with my guitar. Knocked him on his keister.'

'Holy cow,' I said. 'Was he hurt bad?'

'No. But I broke his glasses. The guy was such a pussy. He started it all, and then he reported it to the police. He said I hit him for no reason. Called me a drugged-out guitar player.'

'Were you drugged out?'

'No way. Sure, I smoke weed between sets, but everybody knows weed doesn't count as drugs if you're a guitar player. And I'm real careful. I buy organic. I only do natural drugs, you know. It's okay if they're natural. Natural weed, natural 'shrooms…'

'I didn't know that,' Grandma said.

'It's a fact,' Sally told her. 'I think it might even be union rules that guitar players have to do weed between sets.'

'That makes sense,' Grandma said.

'Yeah,' I said, 'That would explain a lot.'

Sally was out of costume, wearing jeans and ratty sneakers and a faded Black Sabbath T-shirt. He was over six feet tall in flats and close to seven in heels. He had a large hook nose, and he had a lot of black hair… everywhere. He was an okay guy, but he was without a shadow of a doubt the ugliest drag queen in the tristate area. I couldn't imagine any man in his right mind coming on to Sally.

'Why didn't you show up for your court date?' I asked Sally.

'I had to drive the little dudes. It was a school day. I take this job very seriously.'

'And you forgot?'

'Yeah,' he said. 'I fucking forgot.' He closed his eyes and smacked his head with the heel of his hand. 'Darn.' He was wearing a thick elastic band around his left wrist. He snapped the elastic against his wrist and yelped. 'Ow!'

Grandma and I both did raised eyebrows.

'I'm trying to quit cussing,' Sally said. 'The little dudes were getting detention for talking trash mouth after getting off my bus. So my boss gave me this elastic band, and I have to snap it every time I cuss.'

I looked down at his wrist. It was solid red welts. 'Maybe you should think about getting a different job.'

'No fucking way. Oh shit! Damn.'

Snap, snap, snap.

'That's gotta hurt,' Grandma said.

'Yeah, it hurts like a bitch,' Sally said.

Snap.

If I brought Sally in now he'd have to overnight and wait for the courts to open before Vinnie could bond him out again. He didn't look like much of a threat to flee, so I decided to give him a break and bring him in during business hours. 'I have to get you rebonded,' I said to Sally. 'We can arrange a time between bus runs.'

'Wow, that would be awesome. I always have a couple hours off in the middle of the day.'

Grandma looked at her watch. 'We better get a move on if we want to get to the funeral home on time.'

'Hey, rock on,' Sally said. 'Who's laid out?'

'Lorraine Schnagle. I went earlier today but they had the lid down on the casket.'

Sally made a sympathetic sound. Tsk. 'Don't you hate that?'

'Drives me nuts,' Grandma said. 'So I'm going back, hoping the lid will be up for the night viewing.'

Sally had his hands in his pockets, and he was nodding his head like a bobble-head doll. 'I hear you. Give my best to Lorraine.'

Grandmas face lit. 'Maybe you want to come with us. Even with the lid down it should be a good viewing. Lorraine was real popular. The place will be packed. And Stiva always puts out cookies.'

'I could do that,' Sally said, still bobbing. 'Just give me a second to get more dressed up.'

Sally disappeared into the bedroom, and I made a deal with God that I'd try to be a nicer person if only Sally didn't return in sling-back heels and a gown.

When Sally reappeared he was still wearing the faded T-shirt, jeans, and ratty sneakers but he'd added dangly rhinestone earrings and a vintage tuxedo jacket. I felt like God hadn't totally come through for me, but I was willing to take a shot at honoring the deal anyway.

We all piled into the Buick and headed across town to Stiva's.

'I'm hungry,' Grandma said. 'I wouldn't mind having a burger.

We haven't got a lot of time, though, so maybe we could do a drive-by.'

A quarter mile later I swung into the drive-thru lane of a McDonald's and ordered a bag of food. A Big Mac, fries, and a chocolate shake for Grandma. Cheeseburger and Coke for me. A chicken Caesar salad and Diet Coke for Sally.

'I have to watch my weight,' Sally said. 'I have this to-die-for red gown, and I'd be pissed if I fucking grew out of it.' He grimaced.

'Oh shit.' Snap, snap, snap.

'Maybe you should try not to talk,' Grandma said, 'You're gonna give yourself a blood clot with all that snapping.'

I handed the bag of food over to Grandma for distribution and pulled forward. A guy dressed out in a black do-rag, homeboy jeans, new basketball shoes, and a lot of gold jewelry that flashed in the overhead streetlight exited the McDonald's and headed for a car with a high bling rating. It was a brand-new black Lincoln Navigator with gleaming chrome wheel covers and black tinted windows. I rolled closer to get a better look and confirmed my suspicion. It was Red Devil. He was carrying a huge bag of food plus a drink holder with four cups.

Now I know the Red Devil's held up fourteen deli-marts, and I personally saw him toss a flaming Molotov cocktail into a store. So on the one hand, I had to think that this was a bad guy. Problem was, it was hard to take someone seriously when he was going around doing his robbing wearing a cheap rubber mask, riding on a mountain bike.

'Hey!' I shouted at him. 'Wait a minute. I want to talk to you.'

When I got close enough to talk, I was going to reach out and choke him until he turned blue. I didn't care all that much about his deli-mart robbing career, but I was really unhappy about my yellow Escape.

He stopped and stared at me and suddenly placed me. 'You!' he said. 'You're one of the dumb bitches who trashed my bike.'

'You're calling me dumb?' I yelled back at him. 'You're the one going around robbing stores dressed up in a stupid mask, riding a lad's bike. I bet you're too dumb to get a driver's license.'

'Dumb bitch,' he said again. 'Dumb punk-ass bitch.'

The passenger side door opened on the Navigator, and I could hear guys laughing inside the car. Red Devil got in, slammed the door shut, and the car came to life.

I was itching to jump out of the Buick, run over to the SUV, wrench the door open, and drag the devil guy out of the car. Since, by my cup tally, there most likely were at least three other people in the Lincoln, and they might all have guns, and they might be cranky about me ruining their dinner, I decided to go with the more conservative plan of getting the license plate number and following at a respectful distance.

'Was that the devil bandit?' Grandma wanted to know.

I said, 'Yes.'

Grandma sucked in some air. 'Let's get him! Ram him from behind, and then when he stops we'll drag him out of the car.'

'I can't do that. I have no authority to capture him.'

'Okay, so we don't capture him. How about we just kick him a couple times after we get him out of the car?'

That would be assault,' Sally said. 'And it turns out it's illegal.'

I hit the speed dial for Morelli's number on my cell phone.

'Is this about the Japanese triplets?' Morelli wanted to know.

'No, It's about Red Devil. I'm in the Buick with Grandma and Sally Sweet, and I'm following the devil guy. We're on State, heading south. I just passed Olden. He's in a new black Lincoln Navigator.'

'I'll put it out. Don't approach him.'

'No problemo.' I gave Morelli the license number and put my phone on the seat, next to my leg. I followed the SUV for three blocks and saw a blue-and-white come up behind me. I pulled to the side, the blue-and-white sped past and put his lights on.

Grandma and Sally were mouths open, eyes glued to the cop car in front of me.

'That guy in the SUV isn't stopping,' Grandma said.

The SUV ran a light and we all followed. I knew the cop in front of me. It was Eddie Gazarra, riding alone. He was a likeable blond-haired Polish chunk. And he was married to my cousin Shirley-the-Whiner.

He was probably looking in his rear-view mirror, wishing I'd go away.

The SUV suddenly made a right turn and then a quick left.

Eddie stuck to his bumper, and I struggled to stay with Eddie, using my whole body to help muscle the Buick around corners. I was sweating from the exertion. Probably some of the sweat was from fear. I was at the brink of losing control of the car. And I was worried about Gazarra, all by himself, in front of me.

My cell was still on, still connected to Morelli. 'We're chasing these guys,' I yelled down at the phone, giving Morelli cross streets, telling him Gazarra was in front of me.

'We?' Morelli yelled back. 'There's no we. This is a police chase. Go home.'

Sally had himself braced in the back seat, his rhinestone earrings reflecting in my rear-view mirror. 'He could be right, you know. Maybe we should split.'

'Don't listen to him,' Grandma said, her blue-veined, bony hands gripping the shoulder strap. 'Keep the pedal to the metal! You could be a little careful on the turns, though.' she added. 'I'm an old lady. My neck could snap like a twig if you whip around a corner too fast.'

Not much chance of taking a corner that fast in the Buick. Motoring the Buick around was like steering a cruise ship.

Without warning, the SUV went into a turn in the middle of the road and skidded to a stop. Eddie laid some rubber and pulled up a couple car lengths from the SUV. I two-footed the brake pedal and stopped about a foot from Eddie's back bumper.

The rear side window slid down on the SUV, and there was a flash of rapid gunfire from inside the car. Grandma and Sally hit the floor, but I was too stunned to move. The blue-and-white's windshield crumbled, and I saw Eddie jerk to the side and slump.

'I think Eddie's shot!' I yelled at my phone.

'Fuck,' Sally said from the back seat. Snap.

The SUV took off, wheels spinning, and was out of sight within seconds. I shoved my door open and ran to check on Gazarra. He was hit twice. A bullet had grazed the side of his head. And he had a shoulder wound.

'Shit,' I said to Gazarra. 'Don't die.'

Gazarra looked at me through narrowed eyes. 'Do I look like I'm going to die?'

'No. But I'm not an expert.'

'Gripes, what happened? It was like World War III broke out.'

'Seemed like the gentlemen in the SUV didn't want to chat with you.'

I was being glib, hoping it would keep me from bursting into tears. I'd stripped my T-shirt off and had it pressed to Gazarras shoulder wound. Thank goodness I was wearing a sports bra, because I'd feel conspicuous if I was wearing my lacy Victoria's Secret Wonderbra when the cops got here. There was undoubtedly a first aid kit in the squad car, but I wasn't thinking that clearly. The

T-shirt seemed easier and faster. I was pressing hard enough that my hands weren't visibly shaking, but my heart was racing and my breathing was ragged. Grandma and Sally were standing huddled together in silence by the Buick.

'Is there anything we can do?' Grandma asked.

'Talk to Joe. He's on the cell phone. Tell him Gazarra needs help.'

Sirens were screaming in the distance, and I could see the flash of police strobes a block away.

'Shirley's gonna be pissed,' Gazarra said. 'She hates when I get shot.' To my recollection, the only other time Gazarra was shot was when he was playing quick draw in the police station elevator, and his gun accidentally discharged. The bullet ricocheted off the elevator wall and lodged in Gazarra's right buttock.

The first cop car angled in. It was followed by a second blue-and-white and Morelli in his SUV. I took a step back to allow the men access to Eddie.

Morelli looked first to me and then glanced over at Gazarra. 'Are you okay?' he asked.

I was covered with blood, but it wasn't mine. 'I didn't get hit. Eddie's been shot twice, but I think he's going to be all right.'

I guess there are places in this country where cops are always perfectly pressed. Trenton wasn't one of those places. Trenton cops worked hard and worried a lot. Every cop on the scene had a sweat-soaked shirt and grim set to his mouth, including Morelli.

'They opened fire with an automatic weapon from the back seat,' I told Morelli. 'We were coming out of the McDonalds drive-thru on State, and I saw the devil guy cross the lot and get into the Lincoln. The devil guy got into the front passenger seat, so he wasn't the shooter. He had four drinks with him, so there were probably three other guys in the car. I followed him out of the lot and called you. You know the rest.'

Morelli slid an arm around me and pulled me close, resting his cheek on mine. 'I don't want to get mushy here in front of the guys, but there was a moment back there when I heard shots fired over the phone… and I didn't care a lot about the triplets.'

'Nice to know,' I said, slumping against him, happy to have someone holding me up. 'It happened so fast. No one got out of a car. Eddie was still buckled into his seat belt. They shot him through the windshield.'

'The Lincoln was stolen. They probably thought Gazarra was going to bust them.'

'No, it was me,' I said. 'This is all my fault. The Red Devil knew I recognized him.'

An EMT truck arrived and parked next to Gazarra. Cops were directing traffic, securing the area, shouting over the static and chatter of the dispatch radio.

'It's uncanny the way you stumble into this stuff,' Morelli said.

'It's creepy.'

Grandma was standing behind us. 'Two disasters in one day,' she said. 'I bet its a personal record.'

'Not even close.' Morelli said. His eyes settled on my sports bra, 'I like the new look.'

'I used my T-shirt as a compress.'

Morelli removed his shirt and draped it around my shoulders.

'You feel cold.'

That's because my heart stopped pumping blood about ten minutes ago.' My skin was pale and clammy, and my forearms were goose-bumpy. 'I need to get back to my parents' house and have some dessert.'

'I could use some dessert, too,' Grandma said. 'Probably they don't have the lid up on Lorraine, anyway.' She turned to Sally. 'I know I promised you a good time at the funeral parlor, but it didn't work out. How about some dessert instead? We got chocolate cake and ice cream. And then we can send you home in a cab. My son-in-law drives a cab sometimes, so we get a break on the rates.'

'I guess I could eat some cake,' Sally said. 'I probably burned off a couple hundred calories just now from fright.'

Morelli buttoned me into his shirt. 'Are you going to be okay to drive?'

'Yeah. I don't even feel like throwing up anymore.'

'I need to check on a few things here, and then I'll follow you over.'

My mother was on the front porch when we arrived. She was rigid with her arms crossed over her chest and her lips pressed tight together.

'She knows,' Grandma said. 'I bet the phone's been ringing off the hook.'

'How could she know?' Sally asked. 'We were way across town, and it's been less than an hour, start to finish.'

'The first call always comes from Traci Wenke and Myron Flatt on account of they listen to the police band on their radios,' Grandma said. 'And then Elsa Downing probably called. She finds out early because her daughter works as a dispatcher. And I bet Shirley called to see if she could drop the kids off so she could go to the hospital.'

I parked the Buick, and by the time I got to ray mother her face was white, and I expected steam to begin curling out of her ears at any moment. 'Don't start,' I said. 'I'm not talking about it until I've had some cake.'

My mother wheeled around without a word, marched to the kitchen, and sliced me a wedge of cake. I followed after her. 'Ice cream,' I said.

She scooped half a tub of ice cream onto my plate. She stepped back and looked at me. 'Blood,' she said.

'Not mine.'

She made the sign of the cross.

'And I'm pretty sure Eddie's going to be okay.'

Another cross.

There'd been places left at the table for Grandma and me. I took my place and shoveled in cake. Grandma brought an extra chair from the kitchen for Sally and bustled around filling plates. The rest of the family was silent at the dining-room table. Only my father was active, head down, forking up chicken and mashed potatoes. Everyone else was frozen in their seats, mouths open, eyes wide, not sure what to make of me with the blood on my shirt… and Sally in his earrings.

'You all remember Sally, don't you?' Grandma asked as introduction. 'He's a famous musician, and he's a girl sometimes.

He's got a whole bunch of pretty dresses and high heel shoes and makeup. He's even got one of them black leather bustier things with pointy ice cream cone breasts. You don't even hardly notice his chest hair when he's got that bustier thing on.'